


I Was Alone, I Took a Ride, I Didn't Know What I Would Find There

by bigbidumbass



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27924931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigbidumbass/pseuds/bigbidumbass
Summary: Picture the most cliche Hallmark movie ever, but it's Blakefield. Pure fluff, businessman Will, small-town boy Tom who teaches him the meaning of Christmas. We love to see it.Blakefield Winter Wonderland 2020: Day 6, Christmas Movies.AKA, Blakefield, but it's a Christmas movie.
Relationships: Tom Blake/William Schofield
Comments: 11
Kudos: 31
Collections: Walking In A Blakefield Wonderland





	I Was Alone, I Took a Ride, I Didn't Know What I Would Find There

If there was one thing William Schofield wanted in life, it was to be successful. His father had imprinted that in him from the moment he was born.

“Get a good education, get a good job,” he’d always say, “And then you don’t have to stress about those other things.”

It couldn’t be doubted that Will’s father wanted a good life for his son. But he was always cold more than anything else—and ever since Will had graduated, went off to university, and then found a good job, well, they hadn’t really talked. There were times that Will meant to call him, but he never seemed to quite get there. And whenever Will _did_ call him, it was always the same conversation. 

“How is work? Are you working hard? Keeping your eye on that promotion?” And Will, of course, was. He often spent long hours at the office and went to a chiropractor once a month, to erase the hours of sitting at a desk that long.

And as for the promotion, he was very, very close. He could taste it now, the way one could nearly taste things when inhaling; a phantom estimate of the flavour. His boss had been hinting at it for months, persuading Will to stay longer into the night, piling up his workload. And it would all pay off—of that, Will was confident. After all, what were the other options?

Will lived alone. Roommates were too stressful and any romantic endeavours had seemed to stop before they started. Will didn’t mind this—he told himself that once he’d acquired the promotion, then it would be time for things like romance and family. It would be foolish to focus on starting a family now when he was so close to being secure in a position.

It was a week before Christmas that Will packed his things into his car and set off for a dreadfully long drive. A work conference, of course, and it was in a town he’d never heard of. Frankly, it seemed he’d be seeing miles and miles of nothing but trees and the middle of nowhere before he arrived. He wasn’t exactly ecstatic to be doing it, but his boss had left yet another hint for him.

“Do well in there, Will,” he’d said, his steely grey eyes never leaving the paper he was looking at, “And you just might find yourself promoted by Christmas.”

Will felt like he was buzzing with anticipation now, thinking of how it would all pay off. How he’d finally have something to celebrate this Christmas.

Will, to put it simply, did not like Christmas. There was something so insufferable about it that he couldn’t quite place, the loud obnoxiousness of it and the garish lights. The terrible decorations that everyone seemed to put up. Perhaps he’d gotten it from his parents, who shared his views on this holiday. Will’s father had more than once been nicknamed ‘the grinch’ by local children. Will’s parents had never put up a tree before, and though they gave gifts, it all seemed incredibly artificial. Socks and ties and books, those were the only presents he’d ever received. 

Will was less blatant about the fact that he disliked Christmas than his father was—yes, Will would turn down invitations to Christmas parties frequently, and refused to listen to a Christmas song or watch a Christmas movie, but there was no need to make other people feel bad about celebrating it like his father did. Will didn’t like Christmas and other people did, and that was fine.

It made working easier, too. Will couldn’t care less about having to work holidays, and that made him even more ideal for any employers. More than once had Will’s boss waxed poetic about how Will was always the one staying late, Will was willing to work holidays, Will, Will, Will.

Will’s coworkers didn’t like him. He supposed it was some strange tension between them, a competition for the promotion. He’d never gone out of his way to be unfriendly, of course, but why waste precious time chatting it up with one of your mates in the office when you could be getting work done? In any case, Will ignored the way the break room went silent when he entered, ignored the way that people pursed their lips when he spoke during meetings. They didn’t have to know him. So a few people didn’t like him—that was inconsequential to him. He didn’t need their approval. 

It was he and not them who was in the car now, getting ready to drive out for a nearly week-long conference. Placing his key into the ignition, he listened as a deep rumbling shuddered through his car, as the engine groaned and whined but refused to start. Will turned the key back and pulled it out, waiting for a moment before he put it back in, turned it again, and watched as the car started normally. _Thank God,_ he thought. _That could have been a disaster._

The drive, more than anything, was boring. Busy city roads turned into wide expanses of trees that never seemed to end. More often than not, no one was on the road with him. His legs ached from driving, and it was as if the scenery around him wouldn’t change. It _was_ changing, of course, but more than anything he wanted to see civilization. He felt partly insane.

It was a few hours in that Will realised something was wrong with his car. He’d press down on the gas and there would be a lurching motion, the car would delay for a moment, and then rev on. This went on for about a half-hour, with Will getting more and more anxious, before his car simply refused to drive any further, and Will barely managed to pull her to the side of the road and get out. The hood of the car was smoking now, and Will had a very vivid fear of it catching on fire. He pulled out his things, then helplessly looked at it. 

He didn’t know the first thing about cars, much less how to fix this… and of course, there was no fucking signal out here. 

There was no one around. No cars on the road. In fact, Will couldn’t remember the last car he’d seen. This was turning into a fucking nightmare. Pinching his nose, Will inhaled, held it for four seconds, exhaled four seconds, held it for four more. This was his go-to, his usual calm down, but it didn’t work quite effectively as he’d hoped. 

He waited for ages for a car to come, but no luck. He walked around, trying to find some signal. Again, no luck. God, it was awful out here, and Will was thoroughly panicked. What if no one came through and he was trapped here?

Hearing a noise off in the distance, Will looked up to see a smudge off in the distance. A car, thank God, he was saved. But as he stared at it coming closer, he realised it wasn’t even a car, but a motorbike. “Lovely,” he mumbled. 

At the sight of the smoking car, and Will desperately clutching his things, the bike’s driver slowed down and came to a stop near him. Will watched as the driver locked the bike’s brakes into place then got off, removing his helmet.

Will wasn’t quite sure what he’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been what he’d gotten. The first thing he noticed was the driver’s smile, wider than it should have been in this situation, perhaps. The man had curly brown hair that went a bit past his ears, bright blue eyes, and his cheeks and nose were rosy from the cold. 

Will stared at him for a moment, as he dismounted and then approached. 

“What happened here?” the biker asked, looking partly amused at Will’s distressed expression. 

“I’m not exactly sure,” Will confessed, looking at the mess of his car. “Had a bit of trouble starting, and then once I was on the road for a while, she just… wouldn’t go on.”

“Mind if I take a look?” the man asked.

“Go ahead,” Will said, relief washing over him. Perhaps he’d make it after all. But when the man carefully opened up the hood of Will’s car, more smoke flooded out. Will waved it away, coughing a bit. His optimistic thoughts of arriving on time to the conference were fading fast.

“Well, that’s not a good sign,” the man remarked, and Will’s stomach sunk. 

“What are my chances of getting to the Northhill Hotel in-” Will glanced at his phone, “-An hour?”

“Er- nearly impossible,” the man replied. “It’s an hour and a half at _least,_ and with traffic toward the city, would really be more like two hours. Not to mention, this car is not going anywhere.”

“Shit,” Will cursed. It was freezing, he was shivering violently, he didn’t know where he was, and he was half-convinced he was going to lose his job.

Setting down his luggage, he opened it up and pulled out his coat. “I’m guessing no cabs come through this area,” he remarked, and the man’s smile only widened. 

“Definitely not,” he said. “I’m Tom, by the way. Tom Blake.” He held out his mittened hand, and Will shook it.

“Will. Schofield,” Will said, enjoying the new warmth of his coat. 

“Listen,” Tom said, “I live in a town a few minutes off. I could give you a lift—and my brother could tow back your car. He owns a repair shop.”

“That’d be amazing,” Will said gratefully. “Do you know how long it’ll be ‘til I could get back on the road?”

Tom made a face. “A few days, probably,” he said, “The part you need is a bit rare, and it’d have to be ordered out of town.”

Will felt as though he had gotten the wind knocked out of him. “Few—few days?” he asked. “I don’t have a few days, my work presentation is tonight, and…” He trailed off at Tom’s expression. “Look, is there anywhere I could rent a car near here? Or catch a bus?”

Tom shook his head. “I’m really sorry,” he replied, “We’re honestly just a small town in the middle of nowhere. Hardly anyone even comes through here. Usually, people take the main road toward the city.”

“The main road was closed for construction,” Will told him, “I had to come through here.”

“Right,” Tom said, “I heard they were doing that! And I did see more cars coming through than usual.”

Will impulsively glanced out onto the road, which had been empty the entire time they’d talked.

Tom caught the action and gave a bit of a laugh. “Like I said,” he shrugged, “Hardly anyone comes through here.”

Will pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright,” he said after a moment, “Alright, I’ll take that ride.”

“Yeah?” Tom asked. “I’d put your luggage back in the boot, though. You can get it after Joe picks it up.”

That was fair. Will couldn’t exactly hold an entire suitcase on a motorbike. He grabbed a few things from it that fit into his coat pockets, then tucked it back into the boot of his car, hoping it wouldn’t catch on fire. 

Tom had gotten back on his bike and was balancing his feet on either side. 

“Hop on,” he invited, and Will felt a jolt of fear run through him. He’d never ridden a motorbike before, and for good reason. He was terrified of them.

Carefully, Will swung his leg over until he was perched on the back seat, feeling quite unstable. 

Tom turned toward him, handing Will a helmet. “Put this on,” he instructed, and Will awkwardly plopped it onto his head, wondering if this was how he was going to die.

“You can hold onto me, I don’t bite,” Tom told him, a bit muffled under the helmet. Will automatically reached in front of him and wrapped his arms around Tom’s chest, clinging on perhaps a bit too tight. In his mind, he was chanting, _not going to die, not going to die, not going to die._ His heart was in his ears. Oh, Jesus, could this day get any worse?

“You’ll be alright,” Tom told him, with a bit more assurance than Will could find in him to believe. 

Tom put his foot on the gas pedal, and for a moment Will’s life flashed before his eyes, but then they were driving along, and while the wind was bitter, it wasn’t half bad. Granted, Will was so scared that he might as well have been glued to Tom, but at the same time, there was some degree of enjoyment. Some.

When Tom finally got into town and stopped, Will pried his frozen hands away and lurched off the bike, stumbling.

“Oh, God,” he said, reaching up to take his helmet off. 

“I’m guessing you’ve never done that before,” Tom said, grinning at him.

“No,” Will managed, keenly aware he was trembling.

“You did great,” Tom told him. “Come on, let’s get you warm.”

Will blindly followed him into one of the houses, barely able to process anything. Once warmth hit him, he nearly collapsed. It felt like years since he’d been in his car, driving toward the conference and not freezing to his bones. 

Tom sat him down on a couch and bundled him in a blanket, before retreating to the back of the house and returning with someone who must have been his brother, from the resemblance. 

“Will, this is Joe,” Tom told him. “He’s going to go get your car, alright?”

“Thank you,” Will choked out.

“No problem,” Joe said, and it was a moment before Will registered that he was gone and out the door. He was way too stressed, so he tried to focus on relaxing. He vaguely wondered where Tom had gone— part of him thought Tom might have told him, but he hadn’t processed it. 

A few minutes later, Tom emerged with two mugs and carefully handed one to Will, who was feeling a little better.

“Hot cocoa,” Tom told him. “Always warms me up. Be careful, it’s hot.”

Will blew on it for a moment. “Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” Tom responded. “I’m sorry about your work.”

Will shrugged, blowing more and then taking a small sip. It was good, rich and chocolatey. It seemed to flow warmth through his veins. He drank some more until he felt content, then checked his watch again. Forty minutes until the conference. 

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he saw that he now had service, and not only that—he had about a thousand messages, missed calls, and voicemails.

“Fuck,” he murmured, willing himself to stand. “I’ll be right back,” he told Tom, then wandered down the hallway to call his boss back.

The line rang once, and then it was connected, and Mackenzie’s harsh voice was in his ear.

“Schofield, where the _hell_ are you?” he asked, and Will almost flinched at the thought of telling him what he was about to tell him.

“I have no idea,” Will answered honestly. “My car broke down in the middle of nowhere, and I only just got service.”

“I’m looking ridiculous without you here,” Mackenzie told him. “How long until you arrive? I don’t want to have to delay.”

Will swallowed a breath he didn’t feel. “Mackenzie, look. I’m not going to make it tonight. I’ll be lucky if my car is fixed within a few days, and I have no other way of getting there unless you want to make a four-hour roundtrip to come and get me.”

There was a moment of shocked silence. “You know I can’t do that.”

“I do,” Will said. “You’re going to have to do it without me.”

“How?” Mackenzie asked, and he sounded incredibly angry now. 

“I have the entire presentation planned out and ready to go. I’ll send it to you. All you’ll have to do is read it,” Will said, feeling strangely calm. 

“I hope you know how this reflects on you,” Mackenzie said, voice still tight. 

“I’m sorry,” Will said, “I’ve done everything I can.”

“Make sure you send that presentation.” And then there was a click and silence. 

Will set his phone down and sighed. He definitely wasn’t getting that promotion—and he was probably going to lose his job—but at least he was warm. 

Returning to Tom, he sat down and grabbed his mug of hot chocolate and guzzled it. 

“How’d it go?” Tom asked.

“I might lose my job tomorrow,” Will said, “But I can’t seem to care.”

Tom looked a little concerned, but Will just stood and stretched, looking out the window. Joe was back with Will’s car, and Will went out to grab his things from it. Mainly, his laptop, which he then took inside.

“Have you got internet?” he asked Tom.

“Yeah,” Tom said, “It’s the _Blake Family_ one, and the password is cherry blossom.”

Will typed all that in and emailed the presentation to Mackenzie, then sat back and sighed. 

“I don’t suppose you have any hotels near here?” he asked.

The tip of Tom’s lip quirked up. “Hotels, no. Guest room, yes.”

“Oh,” Will said quickly, “You really don’t have to-”

“Why, you have somewhere else to stay?” Tom asked, “It’s really no problem. My mum loves guests, especially around the holidays.”

It was only as Tom said this that Will’s eyes fully registered the decorations around the house. A huge Christmas tree, covered in shining lights and glittering ornaments, an array of presents underneath it. There was holly on the walls, mistletoe on the doorway (which Will reminded himself to be diligent around), four stockings hung—Joe, Tom, Henry, Martha.

He had no doubt that there was a ridiculous amount of Christmas lights outside. Of course. 

Tom was watching him take it all in, and when Will noticed he cleared his throat.

“Right,” he said, “If you’re sure.”

“Trust me,” Tom said. “My mum will be ecstatic. You’ll see when you meet her.”

“I just don’t want to, er- interrupt, I’m not the best with holidays or… families,” Will said.

“Well, if it gets too much, you’ll be with me,” Tom said, “This is my mum’s house—I just had to grab Joe. And there are no expectations, except for my mum possibly coercing you into making dinner.”

“That will be fine,” Will said. He couldn’t remember making dinner very often with his own mother. He vaguely remembered making sugar cookies with his grandmother, but that had been ages ago and she had passed when he was ten.

There was a moment of silence as Will held his mug and wished he hadn’t drunken it so fast.

“I never thanked you for helping me,” Will said. “I honestly don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come along, and you’ve made… the worst day of my life a little better. So, thank you.”

“It’s only what I would hope anyone decent would do,” Tom said, standing. “Anyway, you’re welcome. More cocoa?” He held out his hand for Will’s mug, and Will handed it to him and nodded.

“Please,” Will said. 

He waited a moment as Tom once again disappeared into the kitchen. Joe walked in, hanging up his scarf and coat, gave Will a grin, and sighed.

“How’re you holding up?” he asked. 

“Good,” Will replied. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, you look better,” Joe said. “Your car is alright, I’ve sent an order for the parts so hopefully we can get you back on the road in a few days.”

Will gave him a smile. “Perfect. Thank you.”

Tom, who had come back from the kitchen, looked from Joe to Will. “He’s right, you know,” he said to Will. “About looking better. No offence, but you did look a bit… scary when you first came in. Pale as a ghost.”

“If mum heard you say that, she would kill you,” Joe said, giving him a stern look.

“I didn’t mean it bad or anything,” Tom said. “I’m just glad he doesn’t look like he’s dying anymore.”

“For God’s sake,” Joe exclaimed, “Be polite.”

“I _am_ being polite,” Tom said, but he was grinning, and he handed Will his hot chocolate mug. “Come on,” he told Will, “I’ll show you your room so you can get situated.”

Will looked down at his hot chocolate. “Oh, but—the mug,” he said quickly. 

“You can bring it with you,” Tom assured him, “We’ll be back for dinner soon anyway.” 

Will stood, placed his phone in his back pocket, grabbed his luggage, and followed Tom. The houses here were charming, all sort of cosy looking, and as it would turn out, Tom lived right next door to his parents. His house was decorated too, perhaps a bit less than his parents, but he obviously liked Christmas. 

As Tom opened the door, Will followed him in and looked around, immediately liking the sight. He’d thought cosy looking at the exterior of the houses, but this really was cosy, warmth and soft lighting and books. As Tom entered, a beagle came running towards him, and he bent down to pet her.

“Oh!” Tom said suddenly, looking from the dog to Will, “Sorry, you don’t mind, do you? Joe has a spare room too, and I can ask him-”

“It’s fine,” Will insisted, “I like dogs.”

He set down his hot chocolate and then bent down to pet her, scratching in between her ears.

“Hello,” he said hesitantly, “Nice to meet you.”

“That’s Myrtle,” Tom told him, “I’ve had her since she was a puppy. Your room is back here.” Will stood and picked up his hot chocolate again, following Tom back to a tidy room. 

“I’ll grab you some clean sheets and blankets,” Tom told him, “And you just make yourself at home. If you’re hungry, you can grab anything from the fridge or pantry.”

Will felt quite overwhelmed at this. How were these people so nice? 

As Tom left for sheets and a blanket, Will sighed and took a seat on the bed, finally getting time alone to really think about what had happened. 

His car had broken down. He was in a random town in the middle of nowhere. It’d be a few days before the parts came in and he was able to leave. There was no way he was getting his promotion. He might be fired.

He considered looking at his phone but decided against it as a pang of anxiety hit his stomach. He’d had enough of that. He wanted to relax while he could, and he reached for his luggage and began unpacking. After a minute or two, Tom came back in and handed him some sheets, and a large, warm blanket. 

Will was tempted to set it up and then fall asleep right there, but hunger was enough to make him stay awake. He hadn’t eaten anything but a granola bar and an egg that morning. He was starving, frankly. The hot chocolate had taken away the worst of the feeling, but he was still aching for food. 

“Dinner is in a half-hour,” Tom informed him. “We’ll be heading over to mum and dad’s, but you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“I’ll come,” Will said quickly. Perhaps it was because he wanted to know if everyone in this town was as nice as Joe and Tom, or perhaps it was because he didn’t want to miss out on dinner. Granted, Tom had told him to eat anything in his fridge, but that wasn’t half as appetizing.

“Okay, great!” Tom said. “I’ll- er, come get you when it’s time, then?”

“Yeah,” Will responded. “Perfect.”

“Perfect,” Tom echoed, and then he was gone again. 

Will spent the rest of the time setting up the room, hanging up his clothes, getting himself situated and calmed down. What he wouldn’t give for a nice, warm shower—though he supposed he could ask Tom about that after dinner. When he worked up the courage to check his phone, there was only a single text from Mackenzie.

_“Presentation went well.”_

Will didn’t know what that meant, but perhaps he wouldn’t be losing his job after all. By the time that Will had completely unpacked, it was time to go, and Tom appeared in his doorway with his hands in his pockets, leaning against the frame.

“Still up for it?” he asked.

Will stood and nodded. “Definitely,” he said.

“Listen,” Tom said hesitantly, “My family can be a bit… much, sometimes. They mean well, and they’re nice, but if you get overwhelmed or anything, just let me know, alright?”

“Alright,” Will responded. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it,” Tom said, straightening off the doorway and heading down the hall. Will followed him, grabbing his coat before they left, preparing himself for the biting wind that would soon nip at his exposed cheeks and ears. And sure enough, it was freezing, but it was a short walk over to the Blake house, and soon enough Will was cosied up at the dinner table. Martha looked very much like her sons, with an identical smile that lit up the room. When she first saw Will, she enveloped him in a hug that was warmer than the fireplaces and the hot chocolate, and though it caught Will a bit off guard, he couldn’t help but immediately like her. It was her eyes that differed from Joe and Tom—they were a warm shade of brown, where both the boys were blue. 

They got it from their father, Henry, who though at first seemed a bit intimidating, was just as lovely as the rest of the family. His stern features disappeared when he smiled, and he was quick to clap Will on the back and grip his shoulder, welcoming him. He had a slight limp and walked with a cane, which he sometimes used to point at people, though it was all teasing. 

Dinner was roast, and Will’s mouth was watering at the smell. Martha spooned him a large portion, telling him to eat up, and Will had just started to scarf it down before he realised that the Blake family dinners revolved around conversation.

“So, Will,” Henry started, and Will looked up through a mouthful of food, “Tell us about yourself! What brought you down here?”

Will swallowed, using the time it took him to drink a sip of his water to think about his response. He hated questions about himself. 

“Well, er- I was heading to a work conference in the city,” he answered. “Only my car didn’t seem to want to cooperate.”

“Oh, Joe told us,” Martha exclaimed, “You poor thing! It’s lucky Tom found you!”

“Yes,” Will agreed, looking over to Tom and giving him a smile. “He was a lifesaver.”

“It was nothing, really,” Tom said. “Anyone in town would have done the same thing.”

“You’re too humble,” Henry told him. “I raised a decent young man. You should be proud.” 

“Of myself?” Tom asked. “I’d hope someone would pick me up if that happened to me.”

“But not everyone would, that’s the thing,” Henry insisted, using his fork to accentuate his words.

Tom rolled his eyes before going back to eating, giving Will a humoured look. 

Will was smiling. He didn’t know why, but there was something about the atmosphere that made it so he couldn’t help it. 

“So you’re a businessman, then?” Henry asked, and this was directed at him.

“Well, kind of,” Will replied, “Really, I-”

“Oh, don’t bother with all that,” Henry interrupted, “I never understand these things.”

Will caught Martha flashing a scolding look to Henry before it melted back into a smile, but really he was relieved he didn’t have to explain it.

“Anyway, we’re glad to have you here, Will,” Martha said kindly, “Especially around the holidays. The more the merrier, that’s what I always say.”

“You much into Christmas?” Henry added.

“Oh,” Will stammered, “Well, I- my family never really celebrated it.”

“Oh, that’s alright,” Martha responded. “Tom will have to show you around town. What about ice skating, have you ever been?”

“Only when I was a child,” Will replied. His eyes flickered over to Tom, and then Joe, who had been silent for most of the conversation.

“We have a fabulous lake for ice skating,” Martha told Will. “It gets a bit cold out there, sometimes, but you can always find someone selling something warm. Lauri and Eleanor were out there selling waffles the other day—oh, Will, you haven’t met them yet, but they’re absolutely lovely, just the best.”

“We should go sledding,” Joe said, and Tom’s eyes lit up. 

“We should,” he said, then to Will, “Have you ever gone?”

“I can’t say that I have,” Will answered, and both Tom and Joe let out a groan.

“Listen, you have to,” Tom told him, “It’s so much fun!”

“So you complain about ice skating but you’re all over sledding?” Martha asked the boys, her tone a bit pointed. 

“I didn’t complain about ice skating,” Tom pointed out. 

“Didn’t you?” Martha asked. “Well, you certainly weren’t ecstatic about it.”

“But I never complained,” Tom said. “You said I complained.

Will started to softly laugh even though he didn’t know why, and then Tom joined in, and soon the entire table was all laughing and wiping their eyes.

Not that he’d ever say it, but Will was sort of glad that this was where he’d ended up tonight.

By the time they got back to Tom’s house, Will had a full belly, aching cheeks, and a very drowsy mind. He still wanted a shower, though, and he asked Tom about it. 

“Oh, right across from your room,” Tom said, “The middle is hot, and all the way to the left is freezing cold, so be careful. Towels should be in there too.”

“Thanks,” Will said, and he carried his pyjamas and a toothbrush and toothpaste in. Despite Tom’s instructions, the shower was a bit tricky to figure out, but once he’d gotten it right, he let out a sigh and melted into the warm water. He hadn’t brought shampoo or conditioner—he’d assumed he’d be at a hotel, and they always had some. But, of course, that hadn’t turned out, so he used the shampoo and conditioner that was already in the shower and hoped Tom wouldn’t mind. He didn’t take too long, of course, his mother had taught him it was rude to use too much water at someone else’s house, but he felt fully transformed and ready to jump into bed once he’d exited. 

As he left the bathroom, he caught sight of Tom in the kitchen, petting Myrtle. Will hesitated a moment, then approached him, bending down to give Myrtle a gentle pat on the head.

“I wanted to thank you again,” Will said softly, “For helping me.”

Tom shook his head. “Anyone would have-”

“I don’t think so,” Will cut him off. “Your father was right about that. In fact, I know quite a few people who wouldn’t have stopped. So, thank you.”

Tom stared at him a moment as if he was trying to discern something from Will’s expression. 

“You’re welcome,” he finally said. 

Standing, Will stretched up onto his toes, gave Tom a nod, and then headed back toward his room.

“Hey, Will?” Tom called, and Will stopped and looked back.

“Yes?” Will asked.

“Good night,” Tom told him, and Will gave him a smile.

“Good night, Tom,” he said, and this time he went back the full way to his room. Turning off the light, he climbed into bed, cherishing how warm and soft the bed was, how lovely it was to get to rest after a day like this, and he closed his eyes. He was asleep almost immediately.

When he awoke to the sun in his eyes, Will felt more well-rested than he had in… well, he couldn’t remember. He often had a hard time falling asleep, tormented at night with fast-paced thoughts that wouldn’t seem to leave him be.

After getting dressed, Will cracked his door open and placed his ear next to it, listening. From what it sounded like, Tom was already awake, so Will opened it all the way and walked down the hallway. 

When Tom noticed him, he gave Will a smile, continuing what he was doing. Breakfast, Will realised.

“Morning,” Tom greeted him, “How’d you sleep?”

“Very well, thank you,” Will said, feeling a bit awkward for a reason he couldn’t place. 

“Want some coffee?” Tom asked him, and Will sighed.

“Coffee sounds amazing,” he said, and Tom poured him a mug of it, carefully handing it over.

“Any milk or sugar?” Tom asked.

“No, thank you,” Will said, blowing on it before taking a sip. 

Coffee was one of the simple pleasures of life, that’s what he’d always told himself. The smell of coffee in the morning, the rich warmth of it in his hand, it was enough to make him appreciate waking up. 

Tom was watching him with a strange look, almost half confused and half smiling. 

“What is it?” Will asked.

“Of course you drink your coffee black,” Tom said with a shake of his head, and Will didn’t know exactly what he meant by that but he felt incredibly vulnerable.

“So you’re a milk and sugar person, then?” he asked, watching Tom return to making eggs. 

Tom gave a light sort of laugh, as if that was an understatement. “My mum likes to say I like cream and sugar with my coffee,” he said. 

“I see,” Will replied. He didn’t know why he’d said that.

“How do you like your eggs?” Tom asked suddenly, lifting his head up to look at Will.

“Oh,” Will said. “Scrambled is fine.”

There was an atmosphere here that he couldn’t quite place. Almost awkward, but not quite. Awkward with anyone else but Tom. Because while Will felt awkward with everything he said, the way Tom reacted wasn’t awkward. It was as if he hadn’t quite noticed how reserved and out of place Will was, or perhaps he didn’t care, or perhaps he was just good at soothing the situation. 

Will thought of the cups of hot chocolate Tom had brought him, at the strange sense of ease he felt being with him. He watched Tom scramble eggs, and he relaxed.

“What do you do for a living?” he asked, admittedly a bit out of the blue. 

Tom, who was leaning over the eggs, scrunched up his nose at the question. Will wondered if he didn’t like giving the answer.

“I work with my brother at the shop,” Tom told him. “I don’t know as much as he does, but he still likes to have me around.”

Will’s coffee was nearly gone. He swallowed down the rest of it, grimacing a bit at the bitterness of the dregs, and placed the empty cup on the counter. “And you like it there?”

Tom straightened, blowing a stray piece of hair out of his face. “Yeah, I do.”

Remembering his manners, Will picked up his cup again and headed to the sink, rinsing it out and then placing it in the dishwasher. When he turned around, Tom was watching him.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” Tom remarked. “You’re my guest.”

“Guest or not, I can do my own dishes,” Will said, and the subject was dropped. Breakfast was ready by then, and they sat at the table together, with Myrtle begging for scraps at their feet. Occasionally, her wet nose would tickle Will’s feet and startle him before he remembered she was down there, and he’d glance down to see her big, puppy eyes looking up at him. Tom always smiled when that happened.

“Have you ever had a pet?” he asked the fourth time it’d occurred, leaning a bit closer. 

“No,” Will said, keeping his eyes fixed on the plate in front of him. “My parents weren’t very fond of animals.”

“But you wanted one?”

“Well,” Will started, “Yes, I suppose. I asked my mother for a puppy as a Christmas gift when I was nine.”

“I thought your parents didn’t celebrate Christmas,” Tom said, and Will finally looked up at him.

“They didn't, really. Not in the traditional sense,” Will explained. “They’d give me gifts, but it was all practical things. No tree, no lights. I never believed in Santa Claus because they firmly let me know at the incredibly mature age of four that he wasn’t real, and I should never expect presents from him.”

“They sound fun,” Tom remarked, and Will bit back a grin.

“I don’t think fun was ever their goal,” he said. “They always pushed success, really. My Christmas gifts mainly consisted of socks and textbooks.”

“Well,” Tom said, swinging his feet from the strange position they were in on his chair down to the floor, “Fun will be our goal today, then. How does ice skating sound as a start?”

“I haven’t skated in ages, I’m not even sure I really remember how,” Will said quickly, and Tom grinned at him.

“I know,” Tom said. “I’ll help you.”

“And I don’t have any ice skates,” Will added. Tom stared at him.

“I know,” he said again. “I assumed you hadn’t packed some for a hotel visit. I’ll loan you some.”

Being honest, Will _did_ want to go, it was just that he also didn’t want to fall on his ass in front of Tom and embarrass himself. 

“Alright,” Will agreed. “That’ll be good, then.”

“If you don’t want to, we can do something else,” Tom said, watching Will with concerned eyes.

“No, that’s not… I’ll be fine.” Will gave a curt nod, as if that somehow emphasized his point, or perhaps he was trying to convince himself.

“You’ll let me know if you don’t like it?” Tom asked.

“Yes,” Will said, holding his gaze.

“Good,” Tom said, standing and putting his plate in the sink. “Do you have enough warm clothes?”

“I’ll be fine,” Will assured him, following his lead and putting his dish in the sink, rinsing it off.

Tom only shook his head at that, a gesture that made Will smile as he loaded it into the dishwasher.

Ten minutes later, the two of them were walking through freshly fallen snow, with Will enjoying the crunch of it underneath his feet. He was also freezing cold, and trying not to shiver.

Tom, who had a coat slung over his arm, pressed it into Will’s hands. 

“Here,” he said.

Will looked down at the coat then back to Tom. “What’s this for?” he asked.

“You’re cold,” Tom said plainly. “I can tell. Put it on.”

Will considered arguing, but then a particularly cruel burst of wind hit him, and he was pulling it on over his other coat, appreciating the warmth of it and wondering how Tom had known to bring the coat. 

As they trudged through the small town, Will noted two things. First, he had never seen a place so decorated for the holidays. Every house seemed to be applying for England’s most decorated house of the year, and Will was amazed. The second thing he noted was that there were quite a few empty buildings, grey and dull compared to the festivity of the rest of the town, and all of them boarded up.

“What happened to those?” he asked Tom, gesturing toward the buildings.

An emotion he couldn’t quite catch flashed over Tom’s eyes. 

“They closed down,” Tom said. “Used to be businesses.”

Will was silent, waiting for Tom to continue.

“It’s been hard on us way out here,” Tom continued, “This year especially. If anything stays open, you’re lucky.”

“What about you and your brother?” Will asked.

Tom’s eyes found their way back to the buildings. “We’ll be joining them too, soon,” he said bluntly.

“Oh,” Will said quickly, “I’m sorry.”

“We used to be a tourist town, actually,” Tom told him, “If you can even believe it. People would come out here for the holidays, rent a cabin. Disconnect from everything. Lots of them—people had to wake up early to catch open places because it’d sell out. And we had more traffic as well because the main road everyone uses now didn’t used to exist. Once it opened, we got radio silence. Even the tourists stopped coming. And then everything got old and broken down, and… well, we don’t have enough people here anymore to keep everything going.”

He paused to let out a huff of breath that fogged up in the air. “It’s my family’s last Christmas here, actually. None of us can afford to stay, so… Most other people are leaving, too.”

“Where will you go?” Will asked him, and Tom shrugged. 

“The city, probably,” he answered. “Nothing’s set in stone, yet. But my dad’s going to have to work again. The car shop used to be his, but he hurt his leg in an accident so Joe and I took over.”

For some reason, guilt was eating at Will’s stomach. “I’m really sorry, Tom,” he said, not knowing what else to say. 

“It’s not your fault,” Tom said, and then in the blink of an eye a smile was back on his face, and it was like the moment had never happened. “Here,” he said, “The lake.”

Will looked at it. It looked solid enough, but fear still flooded his veins. 

Tom had already sat down and was putting on his ice skates. Will followed, awkwardly fumbling with the laces and trying to get the shoes on his feet properly.

Tom was watching him, balancing his weight against a tree. “Ready?” he asked.

Will was rethinking his decision, but Tom held a hand out and helped him onto his feet, keeping him balanced on the ice. 

Will kept his arms out like a penguin and bent his knees, not daring to move. He was remembering that he’d hated ice skating as a child. 

Tom laughed and gave him a slight nudge. “Come on, then. If you fall, you fall. Start with short steps and then get bigger. I’ll be behind you.”

Will took a small step forward, slid a bit, and muttered a curse under his breath. After he regained his balance, he swallowed hard, tried not to overthink it, and took another one. This time, he nearly fell back, but Tom pressed his hands against Will’s back to steady him. 

“Thanks,” Will said, his heart beating wildly. He was trying to focus on the ice in front of him, but Tom’s hands were still on his back, and he couldn’t seem to draw his attention away from that.

“Had enough?” Tom asked, sounding as if he was smiling. 

“No,” Will insisted, and Tom removed his hands. Will ignored how empty his back now felt, and started again with small steps, feeling incredibly stupid. Tom was nothing if not supportive, though, cheering him on even when he slipped.

“There, you’ve got it,” he said once Will was starting to get the hang of it. 

Will didn’t reply, too focused on his balance, but he looked up when he felt Tom whiz by him, skating in a basic circle.

“Try going a little faster,” Tom called at him, but Will was still scared to fall.

“Maybe in a bit,” he replied, and Tom came to a stop in front of him, fixing him with a bored stare.

“If you stay there too afraid to fall, you won’t skate at all,” he said. 

Inspiring, but that didn’t make the fear leave Will’s stomach. He sighed, took a deep breath, and moved a little faster, then even faster, before suddenly realizing that he didn’t know how to stop. Skidding around and losing all semblance of what he was doing, he lost his footing and came tumbling down, his tailbone making an impact with the cold, hard ice underneath him. Letting out a groan, he pressed his mittened hand over his eyes and rested his head down on the ice. 

“You okay?” Tom called.

“Yeah,” Will managed, not moving.

“You’re thinking too much,” Tom told him, stopping next to him and squatting down. “You had it but then you panicked and lost your balance.”

“I know,” Will sighed, his hand still over his eyes. “I didn’t know how to stop.”

“Well, next time, ask me how before panicking, yeah?” Tom told him, laughter filling the edge of his words. Will removed his hand from his eyes and looked up at him, gingerly sitting up and smiling despite himself. 

“Hey, now that you’ve fallen, the worst has already happened,” Tom pointed out. “Ready to try again?”

Will sat still for a moment, then gave in and gave Tom his hand, attempting to get to his feet. Just as he was starting to get a good hold, the ice slipped under his feet again, and he had to grip onto Tom’s coat not to fall, pressed against his chest.

Now Tom was off-balance with Will’s added weight, laughing but slipping and holding onto Will's arms. This only threw them more off-balance, then both of them were scrambling, trying not to fall, but before Will knew it both of them were on the ice.

Tom was laughing, and his laugh was more contagious than anything Will had ever heard. As much as Will wanted to mope, he couldn’t—not when Tom was practically crying with laughter, trying to wipe tears away from his eyes with his mittens. Will found himself laughing too, that insane, sort of desperate laugh that ripples through your stomach until it hurts, the kind that leaves you gasping for breath and trying to stop to no avail. And Tom had practically landed on top of him in the fall and was still gripping onto a bit of Will’s arm, which made it even harder to concentrate on calming down.

They stayed like that for a moment, Will trying to stop but not being able to, the ice underneath him feeling as though it was freezing his ass and legs off. When the sound of their hysteria finally died down, the two of them looked away from each other in an attempt to not burst out into laughter again.

Tom carefully made his way to his feet, offering Will a hand up again. 

“Let’s go again,” Will said, and before Tom could even respond, Will was determinedly skating forward again, and Tom followed him.

They spent about an hour more on the ice, with Will getting better and better at it, he and Tom racing across the lake and more banter between the two of them. He learned that Tom liked to tease, but it never seemed cruel. If anything, Tom was good-natured down to the bone, and even when he laughed a bit on the few other times that Will fell, Will found he didn’t mind so much. And Tom was always there to help him get to his feet.

Once they’d gotten tired of skating, the two of them took off their skates. Even with Tom’s added coat, the cold was starting to get to Will, and he found himself daydreaming of being in Tom’s warm kitchen with a cup of hot chocolate.

Tom found an alternate solution, though, leading him to a small food truck that was selling waffles. It sounded a bit strange at first, but once a warm waffle was in his hands, decked out in whipped cream and strawberries, Will couldn’t find a single reason to complain. 

Tom, of course, knew the girls that were running the stand—Will vaguely recalled Martha mentioning them at dinner. Lauri and Eleanor, she had called them.

Lauri was a girl with mousy chestnut hair and warm brown eyes. When she saw Will, she looked at Tom with a shocked expression.

“Who’s this?” she asked, taking the money from Tom for the order.

“That’s Will! Will, meet Lauri,” Tom told her, and Will gave a bit of a wave. 

“Hello,” Lauri called to him. As she did, Eleanor popped out next to her, giving Will a stare-down. Her eyes seemed almost violet, and Will couldn’t quite tell whether or not her hair was brown or black. Though her features seemed sharp at first, they softened into a smile as she turned to Tom.

“You didn’t tell me you had a new boyfriend,” she teased, and Tom went a deep shade of pink. Will knew he was probably a similar colour, and he froze, not knowing what to do or say, stammering. Was she being serious? Did they look like they were dating?

“He’s _not_ my boyfriend,” Tom hissed at her, clearly embarrassed, and Eleanor plastered on an apologetic smile.

“Sorry,” she said, “My mistake.”

For some reason, Will didn’t think she was really sorry. Either way, the awkwardness faded as she turned to look at Will again and gave him a more genuine smile.

“I’m Ella,” she said, though Will had already discerned that. 

“Will,” he managed. “Nice to meet you.”

“How’re you liking it out here?” she asked. “Taking a holiday?”

“You could call it that, yes,” Will said hesitantly. “And I’m liking it a lot. It’s different than what I’m used to.”

“Well, there’s no one better to show you around than Tom,” Ella said. “I’m sure the two of you will have fun sightseeing.”

“I’m sure,” Will said. There was a moment as the two of them politely smiled at each other before Tom took over.

“Right, we’d better be going,” he said, and the girls waved goodbye.

“Bye!” Ella called, and Lauri chimed in with, “Nice to meet you, Will!”

“Nice to meet you!” Will echoed, waving as well. Despite the initial bit with Ella, they seemed nice and their waffles were delicious. Will suddenly realised Tom had paid for both of their food, though, and he felt guilty again. 

_Next time I’ll pay_ , he thought. Tom had already done enough to help him. 

As they went along, Tom pointed out various things to him, with a surprising amount of knowledge. It was almost like being on a tour bus, except Tom kept slipping in funny stories that’d occurred at each place. 

Will found he quite liked listening to Tom talk, and Tom didn’t seem to mind that Will mainly listened. 

When they got to a giant Christmas tree set up in the middle of town, they both stopped and stared at it. Will doubted he’d ever seen a bigger Christmas tree in his life, and it was decorated to the brim. As he got closer, he realised that many of the decorations were laminated slips of paper, handwritten. He looked to Tom, who fondly took one of them in his hand.

“They’re memories,” he explained. “Since so many of us are having to leave this year, we’re writing down our favourite memories of this place.”

Will looked at the note that he was holding, the scribbled handwriting barely legible in the weather. 

_Once, I skated on the lake as a child. It was before it was cold enough to freeze properly, and the ice wasn’t stable enough to hold me. It shattered. I can still remember how cold it was when I fell in—I nearly forgot how to move. I screamed and screamed, and people came running to help me out with no hesitation. By the time I’d gotten out, there were twenty people around with blankets and hot chocolate. This town is a family more than anything._

WIll looked up at Tom, who was watching him. “What happens if everyone leaves?” he asked.

Tom shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. “Dunno. It’ll probably fall apart.”

Will looked at the note one more time, then let it fall back into its place on the tree.

“Let’s move on,” Tom said, and Will agreed. The more he learned about this place, the more its display of festivity was depressing. People who loved their homes but couldn’t stay, and were making this a homestretch of sorts. 

Once Tom had shown him around more parts of the town, Will was thoroughly exhausted. Tom seemed a bit worn out too, quieter than usual. His nose and cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, and he kept tugging up his mittens that were sliding down his hand and leaving a gap on his wrist in between where his coat ended.

Once they’d gotten back to Tom’s, Myrtle came running up to them, her tail wagging so much that it seemed to shake her whole body. Tom laughed and stared down at her, giving her a firm, “Sit!”

Myrtle immediately obeyed, and Tom looked quite pleased. “Stay,” he told her, and then took off his coat and mittens. Will followed his lead, appreciating the flood of warmth that’d arrived when they’d stepped in. Once their winter clothes were off, Tom reached for a bag of dog treats and gave one to Myrtle, bending down to pet her. 

“Good girl!” he told her, and Will found himself smiling.

“You’ve been teaching her tricks?” he asked, squatting down next to Tom.

“Yeah, a few,” Tom said. “Here, try asking her to shake.”

Will held out his hand and looked at Myrtle. “Myrtle, shake,” he instructed, and Myrtle held out her paw. Will gently took it, and Tom handed him a treat to give to her. Once she’d scarfed that down, Will gave her a good scratch behind the ears and stood.

Despite the new warmth, his feet still ached, and he made his way to the couch and sat down. 

“Have anything in particular you want to do?” Tom asked him, taking a seat as well. 

“Anything,” Will said. “I don’t mind just relaxing. You’ve been entertaining me all day.”

“Okay,” Tom said. “I’m going to go take a nap then. But feel free to watch some telly, or read any of the books. And once I come out, I’ll get dinner started.”

“Alright,” Will said, “And thank you. For showing me around.”

“Yeah, it was my pleasure,” Tom told him, and then he disappeared into his room.

Will found himself browsing Tom’s books, choosing one that sounded interesting and starting to read.

Being out here away from his job and his normal life, it was making him realise how many things he was missing. He’d been so focused on being successful that he’d never actually taken time to think about what he really wanted to do. For instance, reading. When Will had been young, he’d read books all the time, and he’d absolutely loved them. As he’d grown up and got busier, prioritizing work over everything else, he’d stopped reading. It was funny in a way, that it’d taken his car breaking down and being trapped in a town in the middle of nowhere to teach him that. 

Speaking of work, he got up to check his phone and email for any messages, but it was silence.

_Oh well,_ he thought. He couldn’t do anything that would be helpful now, anyway. Most of what Mackenzie was doing was meeting with a group of people and discussing plans, and Will trying to assist with that would be pointless.

He’d made it through half of his book by the time Tom woke up and came out of his room, looking half-asleep. His hair and shirt were tousled, and he yawned and stretched onto his toes when he entered the main room. 

“How was your nap?” Will asked.

“Bloody awful,” Tom grumbled, shuffling over to the kitchen. “Felt like I was having a heart attack, trying to get myself up. And I feel more tired than before.”

Will grinned, carefully marking his spot in the book before getting up and joining Tom in the kitchen.

Tom, who had pulled out some vegetables, gave him a strange look.

“How can I help?” Will asked.

Tom looked as though he might refuse Will’s help for a moment, then apparently thought better of it, pulling out a cutting board from underneath the sink.

“You know how to dice onions?” Tom asked, and Will hesitated. 

“A bit,” he said. “I’ve done it, but it was when I was, er- ten.”

Tom stared at him. “Out of curiosity, what do you eat most nights?” he asked.

“Already prepared food from the store,” Will admitted, feeling the tip of his ears go pink. “I usually don’t have very much time to prepare dinner.”

Tom grinned, pulling out a knife from the drawer next to him. “Want me to show you?” he asked, and Will nodded.

“My mum taught me, too,” Tom said, “When you dice it, you want it to be all even, yeah?”

Will nodded again, watching Tom point at the onion with the knife.

“But first,” Tom said, turning the onion on its side, “You want to cut off the root.” With practised hands, he cut off the edge in a smooth stroke. “And the stem.” Flipping the onion onto its other side, he cut that off too. Perhaps he was making it look easy, but Will wasn’t feeling overwhelmed at this, and that was a good sign. 

“Then, cut it in half, and peel off the skin,” Tom continued, his actions following his words.

“Right,” Will said, watching him carefully.

“Then you begin to cut it,” Tom said, looking up to make sure Will was following what he was saying, When he met Will’s eyes, Will smiled at him, and Tom smiled back and went on.

“Right, so you basically just cut, and you’re going to want to go slowly. Keep your fingers curled in so you don’t cut yourself, and rotate it. Try to get even-sized pieces, but it’s really not a big deal if you mess up.”

Then he handed the knife to Will. “Oh, and you might cry a bit. Just be careful not to touch your eyes.”

“Yeah,” Will said, taking the knife and starting to cut like Tom had shown him. He wasn’t nearly as fast as Tom was, but he felt quite pleased with how even the pieces came out. Once he was done with the onion, Tom gave him other short tasks, and before Will knew it a delicious smell was flooding the kitchen. 

As they finished dinner up, they talked, and Will found that Tom knew exactly how to make him laugh. Part of it was his charisma, that just seemed to naturally exude from him with every word. But really, he was quite witty and his replies often caught Will off guard.

After dinner (which Will thought might be one of the best things he’d ever eaten), Tom turned on a cheesy movie for them to watch that Will had never seen, and then the two of them called it a night, with Tom promising that he’d take Will sledding the next day. Will liked that about him.

As Will got tucked into his sheets that night, he stared up at the ceiling and had the horrific realisation that he’d only been here for about a day and a half, but it somehow felt like he’d been here for years. And, more than that, one thing was blazingly clear: he didn’t want to leave.

When he woke up the next morning, Tom was in the kitchen starting breakfast again. This time, Will joined in but volunteered his mother’s french toast recipe, insisting that it was the best ever created. Tom seemed intrigued at that, and he allowed Will to show him how to make it. Though, once it was done, he admitted that it was indeed very good, and wrote down the recipe for himself to use on a later date.

Then came the sledding. Will made sure he was properly bundled up, and Tom even went as far as to wear earmuffs, lending Will a pair too.

Once they’d made it outside, Joe was waiting for them with a few sleds sitting behind him. 

“Morning, lads,” he called. “You ready to sled?”

“No,” Tom said with a roll of his eyes, “We came out here even though we’re not ready.”

“Oh, come off it, you know what I meant,” Joe said.

Tom, who had made his way over to the sleds, ignored him.

Joe turned back to Will and grinned, nudging Tom with his foot. “Sorry,” he said, “You’ll have to forgive my brother. I’m afraid my parents raised him without manners.”

“Shut up,” Tom said, and Will had to bite back a grin. He’d never had a brother, but he enjoyed seeing how they interacted. Banter, with secret care underneath.

“Let’s go,” Joe said, and the three of them carried the sleds up the hill. Two of them were meant for one person only, but one was longer and better fit to hold two people.

“Have you ever done this?” Tom asked him, eyes bright.

“No,” Will told him. “Is it hard?”

“Not really. You just have to sit and not fall off,” Tom told him. That sounded simple enough, though anxiety still fluttered in his chest.

“If you want, you can go with me,” Tom said, and Will jumped on the idea.

“Yes,” he said quickly, “Yes, I’d like that.”

Joe helped them get set up, with Will sitting behind Tom and resisting the urge to wrap his arms around Tom’s chest like he had on the motorbike. They were on the top of the hill, and it looked like a long way down.

“Alright, you ready?” Joe asked, and before either of them could respond, gave them a solid push. “Have fun, lovebirds!” he called, and Tom whipped around to argue with him. It was too late, though—they were flying down the hill. The wind was howling in his ears, Will was clinging onto the side of the sled, and he was vaguely aware that he was laughing, though he couldn’t tell if it was at Joe’s comment and Tom’s reaction, or the sensation of the sled, or maybe both. Either way, when they got to the bottom, Will couldn’t stop smiling, and staggered off the sled. 

“Alright,” he said, “Alright, that was fun.”

Tom grinned and joined him, the two of them pulling the sled back up the hill toward Joe.

“Hey, I’m sorry about what Joe said, er- about us being lovebirds, and Ella assuming we’re—you know. Boyfriends.”

“That’s alright,” Will said, “I don’t mind, really.”

He could swear Tom did a double-take at him, but by the time he looked over to confirm it, Tom was looking down at the sled. Will wondered if that meant-

_No,_ he stopped himself. He was overthinking it.

They went down that hill countless times, until Will’s legs and arms ached from dragging it down, but he still didn’t want to stop. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun, and he quite honestly didn't ever want it to end. 

All things must end, however, and it wasn’t much longer before the three of them were dragging the sleds back to Tom’s house, all looking very glum.

“We can do more tomorrow,” Joe pointed out, and while he was right, Will was more thinking about the fact that once he went home, he’d most likely never do this again. The city didn’t exactly have any hills that were meant for things like sledding, and taking a holiday to go sledding alone sounded just about the most depressing thing Will had ever heard of. 

He had maybe one more day here, and then he’d have to go back to his lonely apartment, have to wake up alone and without Tom telling him stories in the kitchen. Without anything to look forward to, really. 

With every step back, he was thinking more and more of how desperately he wanted to stay. But it wasn’t like he could—even Tom and Joe couldn’t stay here. He was only getting a minor taste of all they were losing. 

The thought of that was making Will feel increasingly hopeless. All these people were having to leave their homes, and couldn’t do anything to stop it. 

“You in there?” Tom asked, nudging into him, and Will snapped out of his thoughts.

“Sorry?” he asked. 

“Oh, so you were _worlds_ away,” Tom observed. “I was just asking if you wanted to go to my mum and dad’s for dinner again.”

“Oh,” Will said, “Yes, that’d be nice.”

Then it went silent, and Will couldn’t help feeling as if he’d somehow caused it. When they arrived, they tucked the sleds back into a shed and Will followed Tom inside again. They took off their winter clothes, played with Myrtle a bit, and then both of them collapsed on the couch.

Tom dozed off a bit, wrapping himself in a warm blanket, and Will finished the rest of the book he’d been reading. He ended up liking it quite a bit, and made a note to buy it when he got home. 

Home. That was such an awful word for it. It was barely a home—it was a place where he slept and showered and ate scraps every night all in favour of slaving away at a job he wasn’t even sure he wanted anymore. Mackenzie still hadn’t texted him, and Will got less nervous about losing it every time he checked for messages.

He had to give himself a bit of a reality check, though. He didn’t have a much better option, he couldn’t stay here, and there was no stopping the fact that he’d have to go back home. 

But the thought of leaving was killing him. He glanced over at Tom, who was still tucked into his blanket, curls falling over his face. 

More than anything else, Will was dreading leaving him. Perhaps he was biased, but Will was pretty sure that Tom was the best part of this town. He was ridiculously easy to talk to, kind beyond belief, and Will hadn’t smiled so much in years as he did when talking to Tom. Will had considered asking Tom to keep in contact after he left, but he supposed a part of him was afraid that Tom didn’t feel the same way and that it’d be awkward. 

He overthought things too much, and he was aware of that. But, he figured, there was nothing to lose. If Tom said yes, then they’d be able to stay in contact. If Tom said no, it was extremely unlikely Will would ever see him again. He decided that before he left, he’d ask Tom about it and see what would happen. That at least would make the transition from the town back to his home a little easier. 

Being even more honest with himself on a deeper level, there was a part of Will that was beginning to bloom that scared him. A part that didn’t mind being assumed as Tom’s boyfriend, a part that wanted Tom to linger a bit longer when he had his hands on his back, a part that wanted to wrap his arms around Tom’s chest and feel Tom laughing. A part that yearned to reach over now, and brush the stray curls away from Tom’s forehead as he slept.

Will hadn’t had romantic feelings for anyone in so long, and of course he’d fallen for someone who’d soon live hours from where Will lived. Someone he had no idea if they felt the same way at all. Everything Tom had done could easily be read as platonic, though Will couldn’t seem to drop the way that Tom had blushed when Ella had called Will his boyfriend from his mind. And with Joe, too, Tom had gone red and not just from the wind. And he’d seemed very relieved when Will had told him he didn’t mind being called his boyfriend. 

So maybe there was hope. Maybe. 

Will had forgotten how senseless romance made people. All logic seemed to be dropped in favour of hope. His father had raised him to be sensible, but here he was now hoping to make a relationship work with someone he’d known for roughly two days. Someone who might not even like him back. 

Will wasn’t fantastic at showing his feelings, or even really realising what he was feeling a majority of the time. What if he’d ruined things by being too stoic? 

His thoughts were interrupted as Tom stirred, and there was a moment as they met eyes. 

“Hi,” Tom said, sleep filling his voice. 

“Hi,” Will replied, not knowing what else to say. Had Tom noticed the way Will had been staring at him?

But Tom just propped himself up on his elbow to look over at the clock, tousling his hair. Will tried to get a hold on himself, wiping his hands on his trousers.

“Dinner will be happening soon,” Tom said, sitting up.

“Yes,” Will said. There was a moment of silence, his own awkwardness seeming to eat away at everything—the air, his lungs, the house. Everything seemed to be made of sheer awkwardness, and it was positively awful.

Thankfully, Tom broke it as he cleared his throat, a smile tugging at his lips. “You know, it’ll feel lonely around here once you’re gone. My mum especially will be sad to see you go.”

“And you?” Will blurted, and he was immediately faced with the mortification of that sentence being spoken.

Tom looked at him, and Will wished he could read Tom’s mind because he had absolutely no idea what he was thinking.

“Yeah. And me,” Tom said, voice hushed, his tone nearly… reverent. For a moment, Will thought he might say more, but then there was a knock at the door, and they both startled.

It was Joe, yelling at them to hurry up as dinner was starting soon. 

“We’re coming,” Tom yelled, but his eyes were still locked on Will. Will held his gaze, held his breath, but Tom only stood and offered Will a hand up off the couch. 

“We’d better get going,” he said, and Will took his hand. He tried not to focus on the warmth of Tom’s hand, on the way he could swear Tom’s hand lingered on his own for a moment longer than it should.

He was being ridiculous, for God’s sake. There was no chance that he and Tom would work out. Tom was charismatic and charming and outgoing, all things that Will was completely a stranger to. Will was never one for close family dinners, or sledding, or… or Christmas. They were different in almost every way. Even if Tom miraculously did like him back, Will was convinced that any future relationship would be a complete and utter disaster.

He was going to have a normal family dinner tonight, do whatever they decided to do tomorrow, and then he was going to go back home and go back to his life. Get the kind of life his father had always wanted him to have. That made sense, that was easy, that was logical. 

But then Tom grinned at him, earmuffs plopped over his ears, his smile crooked but completely endearing, and Will just… melted. He didn’t know what he wanted. He didn’t know what he was doing. 

Shoving his coat on, he followed Tom outside and braved the freezing winds until they were in the Blake family home, and Martha was beaming at him and taking his coat even though that was completely unnecessary and Will could remove his own coat. 

Damn these people with their overly kind manners, and damn this town that Will couldn’t seem to stop thinking about, that he wished more than anything he could help. And most of all, damn Tom with his rosy cheeks and easy laugh, his ways of making Will smile despite all the stubborn years of Will being closed off. 

Tom made him feel real, and that scared him more than anything. These people tugged at the heartstrings Will had worked for so long to hide away and act like they weren’t there. He had never been more torn in between wanting to stay and never, ever going back to the life he’d had before, or choosing to run and return to hiding, go back to what he was familiar with.

As Will sat down for dinner, Tom sat down next to him, and with the chairs being so close together, Will could feel the phantom presence of Tom’s touch. He lost himself that night, in the familiarity between the family, in the way that Tom would give him a glance whenever anything particularly strange was said. It felt like a shared secret between the two of them. 

The dinner passed quickly, with Will realising more and more each second how much he loved it here, daydreaming about finding a way to stay. But he couldn’t think of anything. There was no solution.

His father would have told him that it was a sign—if everything was pointing against him and Tom working out, then that was simply a warning from fate. Will was not his father. A part of him desperately craved to take it on as a challenge, to prove all of those signs wrong and make it work. Unfortunately, the other part of him was a coward. It thrived on obsessing on every little thing that might go wrong, even go as far as convincing him that only the bad would happen and nothing else.

His mind was halfway through over-analysing everything Tom had ever said to him when dinner ended and he and Tom headed for the door. He was in such a haze that as they bid Tom’s parents goodbye, he broke one of the promises he’d made to himself. 

At first, he didn’t quite catch on until Martha pointed above his head, her smile bigger than he’d ever seen, and Will’s heart dropped. _The mistletoe._ For fuck’s sake, who still had mistletoe now?

“Oh, come on, it’s a tradition,” Martha insisted. Will hoped he didn’t look as embarrassed as he felt. Frankly, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d kissed someone. What if he was awful?

Tom looked a little hesitant too, but when Will met his eyes, a smile replaced any shyness and he raised his eyebrows.

“I—alright,” Will managed to stutter, his breath hitching in his chest at how close he and Tom were, at the way Tom smelled of cinnamon and pine cone, at the way Tom’s hand was on his arm now.

Tom laughed a bit and leaned in, and Will closed the distance between them into a soft kiss. It was quick, nothing more than a simple, chaste moment, but when they pulled apart Will’s heart was pounding in his ears.

“Get a room, you two,” Joe said, and Tom scowled at him, ears going pink.

“Shut up,” he snapped, which seemed to be his go-to comeback for Joe’s teasing. Will couldn’t get his mind off the feeling of Tom’s lips pressed against his. 

“Oh, leave them alone,” Martha told Joe, approaching Tom and Will. “Be safe, boys. Get some rest.”

“We will, mum,” Tom told her, and she kissed his forehead. Will, who was standing there awkwardly watching this take place, she wrapped into a firm hug. 

“Goodnight, Will,” she said.

“Goodnight, Mrs Blake,” he said. 

She pursed her lips at the formality. “Martha,” she corrected him. “Always Martha. I’ll see you two tomorrow.” 

And then they were back in the cold, and Will was left alone with the boy he’d just kissed. Should he say something, or would that just make it worse?

Tom cleared his throat, shifting to the side a bit as he walked. “Sorry about that,” he said, the vagueness of his words still clearly meaning the kiss. “They’re—they like to follow a lot of traditions, and all that. You know.”

“I didn’t mind,” Will said, and he genuinely meant that. 

When they got into the house, there was the familiar greeting of Myrtle and her wagging tail, and once they’d shed their winter clothes, there was an uneasy moment as they looked at each other.

“Good night,” Will finally said, and Tom nodded.

“Good night, Will,” he replied. 

The next morning, Will opened his eyes to the sound of Joe’s voice at the front door, accompanied by some knocking. He could tell by the daylight that he’d slept in much later than the other days he’d spent here, and he wondered if Tom had let him do that on purpose.

Will slowly got to his feet despite the fact that he was in his pyjamas, and wandered out to find Tom and Joe at the front door. 

Joe beamed at him despite the dishevelled appearance. “Great news, mate,” he said, “The part for your car is coming in tomorrow. You’ll be back on the road in about 24 hours!”

Despite Joe’s clear happiness at the moment, there was a shocked, distressed silence from Will and Tom.

Eventually realising that he needed to reply, Will forced on a smile and tried to match Joe’s happiness. “That’s great, thank you,” he said. 

Tom was staring at him, but Will was afraid that if he met Tom’s gaze, he’d break down. 

“Yeah, just wanted to let you know,” Joe continued. “And I had to let Tom know to make sure you get the best last day here before you go. You’ll do that, won’t you, Tom?”

“Of course I will,” Tom grumbled, his voice hoarse. 

“Good. Then you’ll be in good hands. See you tonight, then, Will,” Joe replied.

Will lifted a hand as a farewell, unable to do much more. Tomorrow at this time he’d be in his car and driving away from this place, no matter how much his mind was absolutely screaming at him not to.

After Joe left, there was a moment of quiet as Will and Tom sat with the information.

“Right,” Tom eventually said. “Let’s… let’s have breakfast and then go out in the town again. Like Joe said.”

“Yes,” Will agreed, at this point more for Tom’s sake than for his own.

“Anything in particular you want to do?” Tom asked. 

Will felt heavy. It was like his heart had turned into lead, his veins into sand. He felt like he was dragging himself on, and it was an extremely uncomfortable feeling. He didn’t have anything he wanted to do, not unless it was staying here forever, which wasn’t even an option.

“Anything is fine,” he replied, rather dully.

“Come on, there must be something. We could go skating again, or sledding, or both if you wanted. See Lauri and Ella again.” He paused, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. “I wish you’d come a year or two ago. We used to have all these shops, and you could lose hours and hours in there, just looking at what they had. I miss it more than anything.”

Will also wished he’d come a year or two ago, but not for those reasons—simply because that was a year or two more that he could have had time to spend with Tom, in this town. 

“Sledding and skating sound good to me,” he responded. Despite his absolute best efforts, his voice still sounded hollow, and when Tom smiled back at him, it looked a bit strained.

“Right. Sledding and skating it is,” Tom said. 

And sledding and skating they did. It took a bit for Will to get out of his moping, but once he’d reminded himself that it was his last chance to enjoy this, he dropped the sadness and enjoyed himself. Skating was much easier this time, now that he essentially knew how to do it, and he and Tom played games that Tom told him he and Joe had made up as a child. 

Once they were done with that, they went over to Lauri and Ella’s again. Will wondered why on earth they’d sell waffles of all things but didn’t have the heart to ask. Instead, he chatted with them about various things: whether or not he’d liked his visit, how learning to ice skate was, what city life was like. He answered them the best he could, wishing he could have gotten to know them better. 

Sledding was just as fun, but now Joe wasn’t here, so he and Tom spent most of the time racing each other down the hill, yelling creative insults at each other when the other lost. It was half lovely and half awful. Lovely because it was happening and awful because at every second, Will knew he’d have to go and leave all this behind.

The longer the day went on, the more Will craved to leave everything else behind and ask Tom to stay with him forever. Ultimately, that wasn’t an option as he knew he’d die of embarrassment, but, still, he considered it. 

When it started to get dark, no matter how much Will wished it hadn’t, they dragged the sleds back and got ready for another dinner with the Blakes. Will packed his things in an almost lethargic manner, robotic. _Shirts and pants folded, remember to pack your toothbrush after tonight_ , _hairbrush put away. A list of the books that Tom owned, because he wanted to read them all._

“Ready?” Tom asked from his doorway, and Will looked up and plastered on a smile.

“Yes,” he replied, standing and brushing off his jeans. 

“And you’re alright?” Tom asked, his brow creasing in concern. Will wondered what he looked like to make Tom look at him in such a way, but he merely nodded.

“I’m fine,” he said simply. 

Tom looked as though he didn’t believe him, which was fair. Will didn’t believe himself either.

It was halfway through dinner that Martha tapped her spoon to the glass she held, and the room went silent, all turning to look at her.

“As I’m sure we all know, we have some bittersweet news tonight,” she said. “Our dear Will is leaving us.”

Will’s throat felt thick, but he couldn’t look away from her. If he did, he’d look at Tom, and that would really make him lose it.

“I couldn’t help but make a toast,” Martha continued. “And, yes, it may be a bit much, but I stick to the parts of tradition that I truly think benefit us, and I sincerely believe this is one of them.”

Will gave her the strongest smile he could muster, hanging on to every word that she said.

“Will, you’ve only been with us for a few days, but I think I speak for everyone when I say it feels like it’s been much, much longer. We’re so thankful to have had you. You’ve become a dear friend to our family, and we will miss you dearly.”

Will wanted to speak, but he couldn’t. He wanted to tell them how much it meant to him, that they’d taken him in like this. How lovely they were, what a beautiful family they had. But none of that happened—he ended up staring at Martha helplessly, desperately trying not to cry.

But Martha understood, somehow. She smiled and reached over to grip his hand.

“Thank you,” Will finally managed. That was the most he could say, but he had a feeling that they knew. They knew what it meant. 

“A toast,” Martha added, picking up her glass with her free hand. “To Will. May his days be long and filled with love.”

And the other family members echoed her words, holding up their glasses. Will barely managed to join them, and it was taking every single inch of willpower that he had not to give in, to say that he’d stay if they wanted him to, to give up his life and career as long as he was with them. 

But his place wasn’t here, among this family. If it was, then fate would tell him it was. And every logical sign said _no,_ a firm and clear voice in his head. Will decided that he hated logic, but unfortunately, still listened to it. 

The walk home with Tom was silent. Will had never felt more distressed in his life. There was so much to say that he couldn’t, so he tucked his hands into his coat pockets, greeted Myrtle when they opened the door, and then let out a deep sigh. His eyes swept over every inch of this place, trying to memorize it as much as he could. Perhaps if he looked at it long enough, he’d be able to return to it in his mind when he wanted. 

Tom watched him do it, and Will didn’t know what he thought of it. 

“Want some hot chocolate?” Tom asked him, and Will chuckled, the sensation of it catching in his chest.

“Yes,” he answered, “Yes, I’d love some.”

Tom went to go make some, and Will sat down on the couch and continued his attempt at memorization. The books on the shelf, the soft, clean scent the whole house carried, Myrtle, the hung photos on the wall, of Tom with various people throughout the years. 

When Tom emerged, Will did his best to give him a genuine smile. That was the absolute least of what Tom deserved. 

Tom handed the drink to him and Will blew on it, recalling the first day he’d been here. Jesus, that felt like ages ago. Tom sat down next to him, their legs brushing against each other. Will fiercely tried not to think about that.

“It’s a shame you have to leave before Christmas,” Tom said. “I know you don’t celebrate it much, but, still…”

“It is,” Will agreed.

There was a moment of hesitation before Tom spoke again. “You could stay if you wanted to,” he said, and when Will met his gaze, Tom was close enough that Will could have counted the faint freckles that dotted his cheek, should he have wanted to.

Will had never wanted anything more than to say yes and kiss Tom now, to stay for Christmas and for longer, to let go of his past and convince himself that his job and old life didn’t matter. But he couldn’t. And even if he did stay just for Christmas, it would be so much worse to leave. In fact, Will thought it might tear him apart.

So, ignoring every protest from his mind, he looked at Tom, and at a volume scarcely higher than a whisper, murmured, “I can’t. I have to go back to work.”

Tom stared at him for a moment before nodding and leaning back, and Will was cursing life, cursing the fact that he couldn’t stay, cursing whatever force had slowly killed this town. 

Tom sat still for a moment before grabbing his mug and standing, not meeting Will’s eyes. “It’s been a long day,” he said, “I should really get to bed.”

“Okay,” Will said. He didn’t know what the fuck he was supposed to do. Nothing seemed right, not even staying with Tom. He hated himself, but at least his old life had familiarity. At least he knew exactly what he was getting into.

The next morning, Will woke up far too early. For a while, he attempted to go back to sleep, but when it became clear that wasn’t going to happen, he opted for staring at the ceiling instead, wishing things were different. They weren’t. Eventually, he heard Tom get up, and he decided he’d had enough of laying in bed. He finished packing, grabbed his things, and dragged them out into the main room. 

He and Tom ate breakfast in silence, a million things going unsaid. It wasn’t long before Joe was at Tom’s door again, this time presenting Will with his keys.

“She’s all ready to go,” Joe informed him. 

Will hated those words. “Oh, how much do I owe you?” he asked, reaching for his wallet. 

Joe shook his head. “Nothing,” he said. “Consider it a favour.”

Will stared at him. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “You had to order a part out of town for me. Let me pay you.”

But Joe’s expression didn’t budge. “Sorry, mate,” he said. “This isn’t an argument you’re going to win.”

Will could tell from Joe’s expression that he was telling the truth, but he still didn’t know how to accept it. “But I-” he started, and Joe nudged him.

“Stop. Take the car and go,” he said. 

Will sighed, then held out his hand. Joe’s smile returned as he shook it. “Be safe out there,” he said.

“Thank you,” Will told him. Now came the part he was dreading. The rest of the family. Martha and Henry both locked him into hugs, with Henry’s so tight Will was worried he’d crack a rib, but at the same time didn’t mind.

And Tom. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to find the strength to get in the car right now and leave him forever.

He’d wanted to ask to keep in contact but he could tell now that it wasn’t an option. It would hurt too much.

“Tom, I-“

Tom cut him off by hugging him, and Will automatically wrapped his arms around Tom too, wishing things were different. They stayed like that longer than was appropriate, and when they broke apart Tom couldn’t meet his gaze.

“Have a good life,” he said, and it sounded so empty that Will hurt hearing it. 

What if he stayed? What if he gave everything else up? Would it really be so terrifying? 

As it turned out, yes. Even thinking of it made Will sick with anxiety. So he nodded and just told Tom, “You too.”

Then he got in his car, a car that he hated now. He started the engine and waved to the Blake family, then pulled away from town and went onto the main road.

It took him all of seven minutes to realise he was making a huge mistake. A pit of dread was in his stomach, every nerve, every cell of his body was crying for him to go back, and the only reason it took him seven minutes to decide this was the thought of showing up and them not wanting him there.

That was unlikely, though, and he’d rather at least try. He’d just made up his mind to turn around and go back when his phone started to ring on the passenger seat, and Will pulled over immediately, turning his hazards on even though he was completely out of the lane.

It was Mackenzie. Will answered.

“Hello?” 

“Will, is that you?” Mackenzie asked.

“Yes, I’m here. What’s going on?”

There was a bitter noise on the other end. Will couldn’t tell if it was a laugh or a scoff.

“What’s going on… I don’t even know where to start,” Mackenzie said.

Will felt a bit anxious—wondering if he was being fired. Wondering if this was somehow good news instead.

“Alright,” Mackenzie sighed, “Alright. Let’s catch you up. The company we pitched the idea to loved it. They adored it.”

Will let out a relieved huff of air. Thank God.

“We gave them the entire plan,” Mackenzie said, “And we were working on the collaboration of our efforts when they just… disappeared. Out of the blue. Will, they stole our fucking plans and they’re using it for their own gain.”

Will’s heart was pounding in his ears at a vicious rate. His hands felt cold. All the work he’d done for months, gone.

“Now it’s nearly Christmas,” Mackenzie continued, “And we have no plans of investment and all other plans we have were already sold. So, tell me, Schofield. What now?”

Will’s throat was dry, and he swallowed hard. It felt like he was swallowing sand. He was searching for ideas, wondering what the hell to do, and then Tom flashed into his mind. 

Tom. The town.

“I have a plan,” he said.

It took a while to convince Mackenzie to even hear him out. At first, Mackenzie had acted like he was positively crazy. Will had pitched his idea, and there had been an awkward silence before Mackenzie had said, “That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard.”

A quite out of character anger slivered through Will’s body, down his throat, into his arms, through his legs. For a moment, anger was all he was made of, and he gripped the phone and let it spill out of him for once in his life. 

“Listen,” Will said firmly, “I’ve worked for you for what, five years now? And I always do my work. I always stay late, I always get you everything you need, on time and well done. I spent half a year on the plans you’ve just managed to lose. So now I’m here with an idea I know will work, because I’m good at my job, which I’m sure even you must know. You can take it or leave it, but this is what I have.”

There was a beat before Mackenzie responded. “Got some gall after all, have you, Schofield?” he said, and Will’s grip tightened around his phone. 

“Fine,” Mackenzie said. “I’ll come down there and attempt to see what you see. If I don’t like it, I’m not taking it.”

“You’ll like it,” Will told him, and he hung up the phone. He was shaking, now, perhaps from some sort of gravitas, leftover adrenaline, or pure anxiety. He seemed to be feeling a mix of all three.

Letting out a laugh of sheer relief, Will turned his car in the opposite direction and drove. He’d been telling himself over and over that if it was meant to be, fate would send him a sign. And here it was: a sign, as plain as day, as clear as the road and the trees in front of him. 

This would work—he was absolutely sure of that in a way he couldn’t describe. He’d been waiting to live for so long, and it felt like it was finally here. It was finally real, and he couldn’t wait to start.

When Will pulled his car back into town, he wasn’t sure what to expect, but frankly, he was ready to sleep in one of those broken down buildings and rebuild it by hand if he had to.

Luckily, he didn’t have to, though, because when Tom saw Will’s car returning he practically flew out of his house and jumped into Will’s arms, clinging onto him.

“You came back,” he exclaimed breathlessly, half-muffled by Will’s coat, and Will held him for a moment before he could respond.

“You were right,” he said, pulling away to look at him, “It’d be wrong of me to leave before Christmas.”

Tom beamed at him, and Will couldn’t help himself. He moved a hand to Tom’s jaw and brushed a thumb over his cheek, letting the joy he was feeling display on his face. He was ready to take Tom’s face in his hands there and then and kiss the hell out of him but, rather unluckily, Joe had seen Will return too, and was walking briskly toward them.

“Couldn’t get enough of us, then?” Joe asked, his smile almost as wide as Tom’s.

“I’m afraid so,” Will said. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble-”

“Oh, please,” Joe replied, “Mum’s been crying ever since you left. She’ll be ecstatic you’re back.”

Will felt a twinge of guilt at that, but it passed quickly. Tom was still holding onto him, looking up at him. Will greatly wished Joe wasn’t there.

“We’d better go tell her you’re back,” Tom pointed out, and Will nodded.

“I, er- well, some of my coworkers might show up in a few hours,” Will told him. “They won’t be staying the night, or anything, but-”

“Tell that to my mum,” Tom grinned. “She’ll have them staying over for Christmas too. None of us would mind.”

Will wanted to tell Tom that he hadn’t met Mackenzie yet and he might change his mind once he did, but he just smiled down at him. 

“One thing you have to learn about this place,” Joe added, “Is that we love having new people.”

“That’s perfect,” Will said. He wanted to tell them about his plan, about what might happen, but everything was too up in the air. He didn’t want to get everyone’s hopes up only to have Mackenzie turn it down in the end, and make it worse.

“Come on,” Tom said, taking a hold of Will’s hand. Will squeezed gently, hoping he’d never have to let go. 

When Joe knocked on the door, Henry opened it and gave Will a once over. “Back, are you?” he asked, not sounding very surprised. “We’d better tell Martha before she floods the house.”

And sure enough, when they followed Henry back to the kitchen, Martha was there, crying into a handkerchief. When she saw Will, she halted mid-sob and flew up, immediately taking Will into a hug.

“Oh, I knew it!” she exclaimed, laughing a bit and dabbing under her eyes with the hanky. “I knew you’d come back. I’m so happy you’re here.” 

“I’m afraid I fell in love with your family,” Will told her. “I just couldn’t find it in me to go.”

“And we all fell in love with you,” she said simply. “Oh, dear, I know you don’t celebrate Christmas-”

“Actually, that was my parents,” Will informed her, “I’d love to celebrate Christmas with you all.”

That made Martha cry again.

Once Martha had been sufficiently cheered up, she insisted on going to the store and ‘getting more decorations for Will,’ no matter how much Will protested against that. She’d just firmly looked Will in the eye and said, “It’s Christmas,” and that was that. 

“You’d better get unpacked,” Tom told him, and Will nodded. 

Myrtle was nearly as happy to see him as everyone else had been, a flash of fur that was suddenly all over him.

“I missed you too,” Will laughed, giving her a good scratch between the ears. Tom shook his head, grinning. 

“I promised Lauri and Ella that I’d run something over to them,” he said, “But I’ll be back soon, and I’ll let them know you’re back.”

“Alright,” Will said, standing and grabbing his luggage. “I’ll see you in a bit, then.”

“In a bit,” Tom replied, hesitating for a moment, then leaning onto his toes and kissing Will on the cheek. Will was certain he went bright red, and he stood in a daze vaguely sort of smiling at Tom until he’d gone. 

Getting a hold of himself, Will carried his things back to his room and unpacked as quickly as he could. It felt like home here, though of course he wasn’t planning on moving in with Tom. He’d stay here through the holidays, then figure it out. It was this town that felt like home. 

Tom had just gotten back from seeing Lauri and Ella when Will got a call from Mackenzie asking for directions. Will, with Tom’s help, talked him through how to get there. Once it sounded like Mackenzie was set, Mackenzie let out a long sigh and said, “We’ll have to put up signs outside advertising it. It’s in the middle of nowhere.”

“That’s why it’s appealing,” Will told him, watching Tom trying to teach Myrtle how to play dead.

“Right,” Mackenzie said. “We’ll be there soon, then.”

Will wondered who was with him, watching two cars pull into town.

He soon found out that it was Leslie, a sharp, sarcastic man that Will didn’t know very well. Both of them were known for being a bit standoffish. 

“So this is your plan?” Leslie asked him. “All the way out here?”

“People drive hours to go camping in places worse than this,” Will pointed out. “It’s only about a forty-minute trip if you come from one direction, and no longer than two hours from the other way. We could sell it.”

Leslie huffed, his eyes travelling back toward Joe, who had come out to see the new guests.

“Hello! Joseph Blake,” Joe introduced himself, holding out a hand. 

“Ellis Leslie,” Leslie said, “But just call me Leslie.”

Mackenzie finally got out of the car, looking extremely inconvenienced. 

“This had better be worth it, Schofield,” he grumbled, taking the sight of Joe in, then Tom, who had just joined them.

“Nice to meet you!” Joe said brightly, “I’m Joseph Blake-”

“Mackenzie,” he snapped, brushing past him to take a look at the houses.

Will gave the others an apologetic look. “He’s a bit… rough around the edges.”

“We’ll get to him,” Joe said, sounding unbothered. 

Will wasn’t so convinced, and he trailed Mackenzie down to where he stood. 

“Pitch it to me, then,” Mackenzie told him, and Will nodded. 

“Mind a walk?” he asked, not waiting for a response before he started walking. He led Mackenzie to the town centre, to the Christmas tree, and then he started talking. 

As it turned out, Tom’s description of the town in the old days had been accurate. Will had done some research while unpacking, and it had been an extremely in-demand location. Multiple people had described waking up at three in the morning to book one of the cabins, and there were even accounts of people visiting just to see all the shops that had once been open in the town.

Will had been able to find two things that had really gotten the town to the place it was now. First off, as Tom had said, the construction of the new road. With fewer people already driving on the road, the town had gotten fewer visitors, but that wasn’t what had killed it. People were fond of it enough to keep going. 

The main issue was the change of ownership with the cabins. What had started off as a lovely holiday escape in cosy cabins had turned to sloppy service with new owners, with the cabins not getting desperately needed repairs, not being cleaned properly, and the customer service being absolutely awful. Once loyal customers soon turned to angry, disappointed ones. From what Will could tell, many people would love to return should the cabins be properly taken care of again, but as of now there was no point in staying if they were in that state. Eventually, the lack of business had shut the cabins down, and the entire town had suffered from that. 

Once a hot tourism location now a town living in disrepair, its occupants all hoping that something would happen. And here something was. Will wanted to rebuild those cabins to their former glory, find business owners who were interested in opening up a shop in town again—ideally, the people that’d been here before, if he could find them. Then, to get more traffic on the road again and increase the flow of people coming into the town, open up a segment further up toward the city, a ski resort that would be accessed from the same road the town was on. It’d be perfect out here, and it was desperately needed: people from the city had complained about wanting one nearer to them. A stretch of land was already for sale, in an idyllic location.

It would work. There were hundreds of threads online, of thousands of people who already loved this town and wanted to return, but didn’t want disappointment again. Will would ensure that they never got disappointment again. And once word of mouth had started, it’d go back to the way it was. 

Mackenzie silently listened to Will’s pitch, his eyes seeming to scrutinise everything in front of him. Once Will had finished, he nodded once.

“You realise if this falls through, we’ll be ruined, don’t you?” he asked, his tone coarse and biting, but quiet enough Will nearly missed it. 

“And if we have no plan, you’ll be fired,” Will pointed out. “Your choice.”

The edge of Mackenzie’s lips twitched, the closest thing Will had ever seen to a smile on his face. “I suppose I should give you that promotion,” he said. 

“I don’t want it,” Will declared. “Find someone else, there are plenty of others who deserve it.”

Mackenzie stared at him. “Then what do you want?” he asked.

“I want to stay here, and oversee all of this,” Will said. “Be the project manager for this whole operation. Then, if something goes wrong, you can blame me for it.”

Letting out a sharp exhale, Mackenzie’s lips displayed the ghost of a smile again. “That would still technically be a promotion,” he said. “But, the position is yours, and I’ll follow your plan. No idea what’s gotten into your head around here, but you do deserve it.”

Relief flooded Will’s body, and he watched as Mackenzie sharply turned on his heel, beginning to walk back towards his car. Will followed him. 

“I’ll look into buying the cabins, and start on building advertising runs. We’ll start on a majority of it in the new year,” Mackenzie said, turning back to look at Will. “For now, I’m going home. I want to see my wife. I’m sure Leslie will want to stay and look over the town.” He paused a bit, then added, “Enjoy your Christmas, Schofield. I’ll see you next year.”

“Happy Christmas,” Will replied, a bit numbly. He watched as Mackenzie walked the rest of the way back to his car, then got in and drove off. 

“He’s leaving already?” Joe asked incredulously. “Mum will be furious, she hadn’t even gotten the chance to meet him yet.”

“He’s like that,” Leslie replied, turning to Will. “Whatever walkthrough you just gave him, I’d like to have one too,” he said.

“Follow me,” Will told him. “Joe, we’ll be back for dinner.”

“If you aren’t, mum will kill you,” Joe said, and Will grinned at him.

“I know,” he said. “I’m not ready to die just yet.”

He briefly wondered where Tom was, but figured that he’d see him at dinner, and began showing Leslie through the town. 

Leslie was much more open to the idea than Mackenzie had seemed, asking all sorts of questions and suggesting new ideas as well. As it turned out, Mackenzie had made him Will’s assistant on the plan. Will didn’t mind that.

They talked development on the cabins, ideas for the businesses, advertisement, ways to make it more accessible to get to the town, and much, much more. By the time they were done, Will’s feet ached and he was starving, his stomach growling every time he thought of dinner. 

When they got back to the Blake’s house, Joe kept fixing Will with a strange look, one Will couldn't quite read. He didn't say anything, though, besides asking Leslie to stay for dinner, which Leslie accepted. 

“Tom will be back soon,” Joe told him, “Lauri and Ella needed help with something.”

“Alright,” Will replied, deciding to wait for him. It was a few minutes before Tom’s silhouette appeared in the distance, but when he saw Will he was walking so fast he was nearly running.

“Was it you?” Tom asked simply, a bit out of breath. “You were with the people that just bought the cabins?”

Will was stunned. “Well...”

Tom laughed, grabbing onto Will’s arms and looking up at him. “Lauri’s dad is the real estate agent for the area, he always reports when things get bought here. It’s been years since anyone was even interested, but he got a call today from someone who wanted to buy them all. _Buy them all,_ and get people back here. You were part of that?”

“I—yes, I was,” Will admitted. “I just wanted to help, so I pitched the idea to my boss, and-”

Tom kissed him. He gripped the collar of Will’s coat and pulled him into a kiss, and Will forgot everything he was saying and kissed him back, his hand finding its way to Tom’s jaw, his other tangled in Tom’s hair. 

“You’re wonderful,” Tom told him, eyes bright with excitement, nearly laughing from pure joy. “We haven’t even had hope for this place in years, and you’ve just given it to us all.”

“You’re the one who made me believe in it,” Will said, brushing a loose curl out of Tom’s face. “If it hadn’t been for you and your family, this would just have been another place to me. I might never have seen it in my lifetime.”

Tom smiled, leaning his forehead against Will’s. “You’re still staying for Christmas?” he asked, and Will nodded.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

And Will did stay for Christmas, and he’d never been happier in his life. Martha got him a stocking, and come Christmas Day, Will was shocked to find a bundle of presents under the tree with his name on it. He’d gotten them all what small gifts he could find at the store, but he still felt guilty at seeing them.

“I’m sorry that they aren’t much,” he said, handing them all their presents. “If I’d had more time to prepare-”

“Will, you saved our home,” Henry told him. “I don’t think anyone could give us a better gift than that.”

The rest of the family all nodded their agreement, and Martha wiped away a tear. Tom reached for Will’s hand, which Will took, and squeezed. He’d never been in a place that felt so right.

Once New Year’s had arrived, Will had to leave again. If anything, he had to at least go home and collect all of his stuff. Despite his assurances that he’d be back, it was a teary goodbye from all of them.

“How much will we see you?” Martha asked. “Twice a year?”

“Actually,” Will said, “Since I’m the project manager for this location, I’ll be having to find a place nearer to town. I’ve got my eye on one of the open houses across the street. So I think you’ll be able to see me as much as you like.”

Tom threw his hands around Will’s neck. 

So home Will went, though it wasn’t really home any more. He went through all of his flat, threw away quite a bit of what he didn’t need, and loaded everything else to the brim in his car. A moving truck would be getting his furniture later. Then he drove back to the town, back to Tom, reflecting on how far he’d come in just a few short weeks. 

And when Tom greeted him with a hug, and a “Welcome home,” the words had never felt so right. 


End file.
